


Just One Yesterday

by Szpurka



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Era, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Time Travel, merlin/gwaine friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-27 07:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18191579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szpurka/pseuds/Szpurka
Summary: King Arthur rules alone for almost three years in peace and prosperity, until one night everything changes. A stranger arrives in Camelot, requesting a meeting with the king and his manservant. Why does he want to meet them both? Why he looks exactly like Merlin? And where does he comes from?Merlin's plagued with dreams of a bloody battle, has to deal with this stranger who has his face, there's a prophecy about Arthur dying and the future, as always, rest on the shoulders of one young man, who's stressed enough as it.aka canon rewrite au of season 5





	1. Unsteady future

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm Szpurka and I am so excited to be sharing this thing with you guys, bc I wanted to write it for forever and there's no better motivation than my exams coming and me writing this instead studying 
> 
> Anyway
> 
> Basically all you need to know is that everything until season 5 happened, but Arthur didn't marry Gwen at the end of season 5. They decided to split up, bc I think Gwen as a queen in s5 becomes more of a plot device than herself. And I think she should be her beautiful and strong self and more free as she was before  
> I'll try to explain her dynamic with everyone in the story, but know this - she is actively involved and doesn't go into the background, bc I love her too much
> 
> The title is from Fall Out Boy song "Just one yesterday" and I thought the line "I'd trade all of my tomorrows for just one yesterday" was very powerful and fitting. The song isn't really in the feel of the story, but it's awesome, you can check it out

**** For three nights in a row Merlin dreams of death.

He can’t see the blood pouring, horses slipping on the mud mixed with blood, they and their riders falling to the ground, never getting back up again, crushed beneath the hooves and feet on the battlefield.

Because it is a battlefield. Merlin knows this like he knows himself, even if he can’t see it.

He can’t smell the stank of death, of sweat and rain and blood. 

He can’t taste this things, too.

He can’t hear the gut-churning screams, clashing of swords, whining of horses. He can’t see the lighting cutting the black sky in half and he can’t hear the roar of thunder that follows after.

He can’t  _ feel  _ anything, because he isn’t there. Though it feels like he should be.

But why? That is the question.

For all his years alive, for all his years in Camelot, for all his years following Arthur to battles he’d never witnessed something like this--this nightmare, this  _ hell _ . Battles they’d lost, battles they’d won, but this one haven’t felt like any of them.

It’s a bloodbath, nothing more. It didn’t matter in the least, who lost or who won, all that mattered was to kill as many as you were able, before following them to the Otherworld.

Merlin feels pressure on his chest, something like hands - cold, dead hands - dragging him back into the nightmare, and he thrashes and cries and sobs -  _ no more, please, no more! _ \- before he’s pulled violently upwards.

He tries to catch his breath like it’s the first time he breathes for a long time and for the first long seconds he realizes he can’t, _ oh gods, _ he can’t breathe. Then someone shakes him again and the reality comes crashing with the next breath.

His eyes fly open and he sees Gwaine’s face - eyes widened, panting, a bit scared. His hair and clothes are wet, but Gaius standing behind him is dry and pulling the hood of his warmest cloak on his head.

The hands on Merlin’s shoulders are lifted slowly as if not to scare Merlin away, Gwaine holds them palms showing, before he hides them away in his thick black cloak. Not before he sees Gwaine’s bare chest and nightclothes underneath.

Merlin’s realizes a few things at once - the insisting thumping against the windows are caused by the heavy droplets of rain. Despite it being outside, Merlin is drenched head to toe. His hair unsticks from his forehead, when he waves is hand through it.

He must’ve kicked the blanket at some point, while he was waking up from the nightmare, because cold air hits him and sends shiver through his body.

Gwaine’s stepping from one foot to another and Gaius is ready to go, firmly wrapped in his cloak and holding Merlin’s blue one.

The first thought that comes through his mind is the worst one, but why else would they wake him in the middle of the night?

“Arthur…” he croaks, and swallows again trying to make his throat work.

Gwaine gives him a crooked not quite smile, but it’s reassuring enough, even before he says, “Perfectly fine. We have a visitor”

Merlin stands up on shaky legs, Gaius is a his side with a cup of water Merlin drinks in three gulps and says, “Who?”

He’s managed to put his cloak on his shoulders, but Gaius has to help him tie the knot at his neck, because of how badly his fingers are shaking. He sits down on the bed and starts to put his socks and boots, he sticks the laces inside, doesn’t want Gaius or Gwaine’s help with that.

When he’s standing and as ready to go as he’ll get for the moment.

“All ready, my friend?” Gwaine asks. He has that soft expression and tone of voice he takes with Merlin, when he’s concerned - which, granted, Merlin doesn’t witness much, but enough to recognize it, when it makes an appearance.

Merlin nods and Gwaine knows him enough to tell, when he’s not ready to talk. Merlin couldn’t be more grateful for a friend like that.

Gwaine leads them outside, they’re well within a castle, so there’s no need to go outside into the pouring rain, but even the air in the corridors isn’t any better. Merlin’s cloak isn’t the warmest and he clothes underneath are sweaty, he shivers. The quick pace wars him a bit, but not much.

Gwaine’s leading them to the door on the left, but then changes the direction suddenly to the right. “Everyone should be in the throne room,” he says over his shoulder. 

Which doesn’t explain much and it doesn’t look like Gwaine’s going to tell them anything. And Merlin’s used to not getting enough information - gods forbid, Arthur be straightforward about his plans or thoughts - but he also doesn’t like not knowing. 

And Gwaine’s Gwaine. He’s constantly babbling about things with Merlin only Royal knights should know and getting too excited to keep things to himself. It’s unusual for him to be so quiet. And that gets Merlin worried more than anything.

Merlin isn’t surprised Arthur might have called for Gaius - he’s not only the court physician, but also one of the king’s most trusted advisers. He was a bit surprised Arthur called for him, but he guesses it shouldn’t surprise him anymore. There still a bit Merlin doesn’t know about Camelot’s business. He’s bored to death listening to the council meetings, so he most often than not doesn’t bother to go to them. Even if Arthur made it clear again and again that he’s more than welcome to join him, so they can suffer together.

That’s why usually when Merlin doesn’t bother to be present for important meetings, busy running around the castle doing chores for Arthur, it doesn’t take much time for the most important news to spread around the castle. And later, when Arthur has his head out of his shirt or his mouth half-stuffed with sausage like the pig he is, he’ll tell Merlin the things Merlin needs to know.

Though more often than not Merlin accompanies Arthur to his meetings, at his right hand or silently in the background, noticing things Arthur isn’t able to and then considering his advice.

And yet, it’s the first time an emergency like this arises. For three years they haven’t had too much trouble keeping peace across the lands, while Morgana had been silent.

That’s the other thing that pops in his mind - Morgana. What had she been planning all this time?

“Gwaine, what’s going on?”

They see the doors to the throne room, but Merlin slows down, Gaius at his side, a little winded down for their pace.

Gwaine’s looking at him with uncertainty, which immediately sets Merlin alerts high. It’s not like him to be so nervous, so shy.

They stop in front of the door and Gwaine turns to him, licking his lips and waving hand though his wet hair. “He asked for the King of Camelot and his manservant.” Merlin and Gaius share a look of surprise and confusion at that. “He’s… dear gods, you won’t believe me. You have to see for yourselves.” 

At that, he opens the doors and let’s them step inside before following after.

The throne room is lit only by a few candles, the half-darkness adding to the tension Merlin already feels in his shoulders. There are not many people in there. Only the most trusted, it seems.

There’s a man on his knees in the middle of the room, dressed in a dark cloak - pitch black in this light - on his knees, hands behind his back tied with rope. Merlin doesn’t see his face from his point of view, even as they closer. It’s cast in shadows by the hood he’s wearing. He has his back straight, but his hands aren’t clenching, they look relaxed. He doesn’t look threatened or threatening.

Elyan and Percival are standing at both his sides, with Percival’s hand on the stranger’s shoulder. Leon is beside Arthur, between the stranger and his king. They all look ready to fight, not fooled by the man’s calmness. Merlin takes nearly as much pride in them as Arthur does, more so for showing their protectiveness of Arthur, which stems more from their friendship than loyalty to Camelot.

They have their chainmails on, but dressed sloppily in a hurry, but the have swords at their sides and that’s the most important. Percival gives Gwaine his sword, not taking his eyes of the stranger and clasps his free hand on the handle of his own.

Gwaine did not put an amour and is wet from rain, while the others seem mostly dry. Either he was in a tavern or he was the one who brought the stranger to the castle.

Gwaine stands next to Gwen, for she is the only one in the room, who has no weapon whatsoever and looks ready to fall asleep on her feet. She had a hard day today, she confessed to Merlin two weeks ago that some of the maids make pranks on her, still haven’t forgiven her for her ‘betraying’ Arthur and/or nearly becoming a queen. Mostly everything came back to normal, but there are still people who despise her for what she did or they think she did that Arthur left her.

The truth is she was the one who refused him. That was the best decision for she knew what she felt for Lancelot and Arthur were two different things and Arthur didn’t deserve to always wonder whether she would chose another were he there. And being a queen was not something she was interested in, experiencing it briefly she saw it was not a path for her. She claimed to be a simple girl, not used to formality, lies and intrigues of other nobles.

Arthur respected her decision and let her work at the castle again as a maid - for that was what she liked to do, what she did best. And she was happier for it.

They both were. Even if for a brief time she and Arthur couldn’t even look each other in the eye.

Arthur still values her judgment - because she is the voice of the people.

And Arthur - gods. His back is straight, his in his nightshirt, brown trousers and boots, but he has a crown on his head and he looks every bit a king as always, commanding and unmovable without saying a word. His face is blank, no emotions showing in any of it, but Merlin reads him clearly as a book without even trying - there’s mistrust there and a bit of annoyance for his beauty sleep being interrupted.

Gaius goes to Gwen and Gwaine, but Merlin stands beside Arthur, both acknowledging one another with the briefest eye contact, though Arthur’s eyes linger on his shivering frame and his wet hair. He must look pale too, Merlin muses. He supposes one does not look one’s best after being woken up from the visions of hell.

Their boots were the only sounds in the room, but when they stop, the silence that falls is filled with tension.

“Now that the king and his manservant are in front of you, will you show your face,” Arthur voice booms with authority and threat, “or do you have other demands?”

The stranger tries to stand, but is immediately stopped by Percival’s hand on his shoulder forcing him down. The stranger’s resistance is impressive for he’s not going down easily and knowing Percival’s own capabilities is not small feet.

Merlin and Arthur are both immediately alert. This potential enemy is powerful.

“Let him stand, Percival.” When the man does just that, Arthur voice gets a bit quieter, more rough, “Show your face.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

He has a deep voice and pale hands that peel back the soaked through hood and show, bit by bit, the face of the stranger.

Arthur startles violently, even before the whole hood is down, but when it falls back Gwen gasps somewhere next to them. Elyan and Percival’s brows knit in confusion. Merlin doesn’t do anything, maybe even stops breathing for a second.

“How on earth…?” Gaius murmurs, and yes, how on earth indeed.

How on earth there are the exact same shade, the exact same shape of eyes as his own staring at Merlin right now. More than that - that is his face, with a thick dark beard and longer hair, yes, but still his own. His hands and his shoulders and his frame, the same legs making the same strides he usually does, but with more confidence. 

Elyan, Percival and Leon try to stop him from being so close to Arthur and Merlin, but this stranger with Merlin’s own face struggles against their hold - and he is  _ strong _ , Merlin’s own body but with more bulk, more muscle - and for a brief moment looks stricken - desperate, trying to reach for them--no, reach for Arthur.

He looked at him the entire time, only glanced briefly at Merlin.

“Please,” he asks, begs, after the knights drag him away, his tone is frantic and his voice is also Merlin’s, “I don’t have any weapons, Percival, Elyan… Please, Arthur.” He says softly, looking at the king.

And the king, dumbfounded as he is, slowly makes his way to him. Merlin wants to follow, but his legs are shaking and if he makes even a step forward he’s sure he’ll collapse. He looks between Arthur and the stranger with his face now merely a foot apart.

Arthur expression is not pleasant, he starts to get angry, but the stranger breathes a sigh, the tension bleeds out of his body. His eyes are a bit glassy, his pale and there are bags under his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face - soft and sweet.

He reaches his hand that supposed to be tied to the other behind his back, before the knights can stop him - he’s fast, another dangerous ability - and touches Arthur cheek, which startles all of them, Arthur even more than others.

Merlin wants to wrench that hand from his king’s face, but he can’t even stop shaking, how can he fight someone stronger and faster than him--someone that is him, but better. He’s irritated. Irritated at the knights, because they don’t stop this madness. Irritated at Arthur for not reacting at all.

If Merlin did this - the real him - Arthur would never let him… would snap and insult him for even being that close. So why doesn’t he move?

The fake-Merlin’s fingertips trail along Arthur cheek, ear, jaw, to finally cup his chin, lean in steal the softest of kisses.

“I come from the future, Arthur,” he whispers into Arthur’s lips, but the room is quiet and everyone 

Arthur recoils at that at least, takes a few steps back. Leon goes between them and Percival and Elyan grip his shoulders again. This time the stranger doesn’t fight them.

“Take him to the dungeons, take all his possessions and give him our best guards. We’ll see if this sorcery lasts until tomorrow.”

“Yes, sire.” The knights say as they drag the stranger away.

“I will be there, until whenever you deem fitting to speak to me, your majesty,” the fake-Merlin says, polite to a fault, trying to get on the king’s good side. “And I will be very good, so it may come sooner. We don’t have much time.”

He winks at Arthur. Actually winks. And Merlin and Arthur are left speechless.

Gwaine lays a hand on Merlin shoulder as he walks by and picks up a rope left on the ground. He shows it to Arthur and Merlin, silently saying he probably got out of it, because he’s smart and not by magic.

But Merlin knows if this man is him, there will be a lot more magic involved than they expect. But if this man is him he has to have a reason for coming here.

Merlin looks at Arthur as the door closes and sees him sagging on his throne. Gaius rushed to him with, “Are you alright, your majesty? Do you feel off?” probably thinking the touch or the kiss might have been an attempt to poison the king.

Merlin know it wasn’t. Arthur seems to not considered it before, looking unsure. He shakes his head with a shrug. His eyes flicker to Merlin, but he doesn’t hold his gaze. His cheeks are pink and Merlin doesn’t know what to think.

“What now?” Merlin asks, chewing his lip. With his nightmares, sleep deprivation and now this he’s terrified of what future days may bring.

“I think we have at least four solid hours of sleep, before we decide,” Gwen says, reasonable as always, “Gods know, I need a time to unpack all of what happened in those fifteen minutes.”

They all agree.

Arthur still doesn’t look at Merlin as he goes to his chambers.

The cold doesn't bother Merlin as much as this does.


	2. A man out of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin tries to figure out, who that strange man with his face is while being very tired bean and he and Arthur really need to talk to each other and figure out why exactly are they in such a bad moods, sheesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, a little disclaimer bc Merlin is a basic bitch in this and I am not sorry at all. This chapter contains some bad thoughts, Merlin dealing with some issues and bullying from some servants. Just thought I'll give you the heads up

Merlin doesn’t sleep the rest of the night. He just lies in bed, looking at the ceiling, listening to Gaius’ trying to go to sleep again. He shuffles around on his bed, makes twelve steps and pours himself water from the jug on the table, takes three gulps, then goes to bed again, turning around again and huffing.

The sunrise starts picking its way through the window, there’s a knock on Gaius’ door and Merlin jolts awake.

He spend a good three or so hours in that stage between sleep and wakefulness, never going under and he feels like he’s even more tired than before. His joints ache in that unpleasant way that he gets when he’s with the knights and he spent a whole night on the stiff ground, and his head hurts.

He sometimes dreams of being old. Of doing and saying everything he wants and people would smile and shake their heads, because he’s an old weird man. Or he wouldn’t have to carry buckets of water to the prince’s chambers through the whole castle and four flights of stairs or shoveling horse shit for hours. Some younger kind-hearted servants would just take on those strenuous tasks.

He imagines himself as some kind of advisor - like Gaius perhaps. But Merlin doesn’t have the patience, knowledge or interest in becoming a physician. Or just an old man living in the woods, with his own garden, hunting his own food, with a stream nearby that he can bath in. Having a simple peaceful life. Maybe with a bit of help from his magic.

But feeling his knees crack as he stands and his neck stiff he doesn’t envy Gaius or Geoffrey at all.

Merlin puts his blue shirt on and ties the red neckerchief around his throat, before his steps from his chamber into Gaius’ workshop just as Gaius says farewell to the woman in a grey dress. It’s Mrs Malia from the south end, whose daughter has allergies, and Gaius makes her a potion three times a month.

Gaius shuts the door and turns around, facing Merlin. 

“Sit, my boy. Eat something.” He gestures to the broth that’s in the pot in the middle of the table. Merlin takes it into a bowl and takes his first spoonful. He’s not that hungry, but he knows better than to refuse breakfast. It may not taste well, but it gives him energy to go about his day until he manages to sneak some sausages from Arthur’s dinner.

Arthur who can’t look him in the eyes. Merlin sighs. There’ll be no stealing food today. Probably not a lot of speaking either.

“Merlin, that man that claims to be you got me thinking,” Garius says, sitting in front of him, his own bowl empty already, while Merlin plays with his food. He must look really bad if Gaius doesn’t even scold him for it.

Merlin sits straighter at the mention of the stranger. “He must be lying,” He says immediately. “I mean-I would know if he was. Wouldn’t I? My magic would sense it.”

“That’s what I was thinking about. If it’s a spell it must be a very powerful one. I found mentions of one in the books. The spell of transformation. It lasts only few hours. There’s no potion or spell that can last longer, but just to be sure, there is a potion to reverse its effect.”

Gaius stands and retrieves a small vial of something yellow that looks and has a consistency of some kind of oil.

“Well, it’s not as much about the potion as about the spell. According to the book it’s a spell that reveals anything that is untrue.”

Gaius brings him a book and Merlin takes it carefully. It has a worn spine and yellow pages and Merlin often fears, when he touched it, it might break it two.

He follows Gaius finger to the incantation and it’s-well, it looks at it suspiciously easy.

He takes the vial and says reads, “ _ Nocht do fhírinne is doimhne, _ ” and the oil looks like it’s boiling for a split second before it settles.

“This is it?” Merlin arches an eyebrow and Gaius shrugs.

“Apparently so. Now you must make that man drink it. If he haven’t had changed already he certainly will after that.”

“But how am I supposed to make him drink  _ that _ ?” He shakes the small vial a bit and marvels at its oily consistency. He can’t add it to the prisoner’s water or anything, because it’ll be very noticeable in smell and certainly in taste.

“I believe you will think of something, my boy. Now, you must hurry. You know how the king gets when he doesn’t have his breakfast on time.”

Merlin snorts, rubbing at his eye. “He probably hates me. You saw him, Gaius, he couldn’t even look at me. He probably thinks it’s my fault or something.”

He doesn’t mention the kiss, he doesn’t have to. They both saw it very clearly and Arthur’s reaction to that.

Merlin really doesn’t look forward to start this day.

Gaius stands closer to him and takes his elbow in a loose and warm grip, comforting. “You know it’s not truth, Merlin. Just speak to him.”

Merlin laughs, grateful for the comfort, but uncomfortable with it. He tries to bring some good mood back. He takes a few steps to the door, backwards and with a big grin that he doesn’t feel all that confident in. “And when did his majesty ever in his entire royal life say what he meant?”

“Maybe today will be that first day,” Gaius says with amusement and Merlin snorts, before closing the door.

He sighs, grin dropping from his face, looking at the vial in his hand.

All right.

He just has to give it to the prisoner, who claims to be him. Easy. Merlin had done a lot more difficult tasks over the years. He can do this quickly and prepare himself to face Arthur.

Merlin gets to the kitchen first, asks who would be taking breakfast to the prisoner and the cook mutters something about some servant girl.

“Well, if she comes here tell her I already took care of that, all right?”

“And why do you take a meal to the prisoner instead of the king, huh, boy?” Bertha, the head cook, asks. Because she just can’t let slide the chance to question his motives concerning Arthur. 

Apparently she is ‘onto him’ and she will soon ‘expose his nefarious intentions toward the king’. Meaning, she will either catch him stealing Arthur’s food herself, which is theory yet unproven, or sees that Arthur has gotten thinner and she will eat Merlin alive.

Merlin always tells her to mind her own business, though he understands that she’s just passionate about her job and wants the king to like her meals. Which isn’t the problem, Arthur - and Merlin - love her meals. The problem is that she’s too nosy for her own good.

“Arthur asked me to do that, if you must know, Bertha.” He juts his chin out. Gods, how this woman annoys him. 

That’s the moment she usually remembers how chummy he is with the king and backs off a bit. With how he calls him by his name and how the king doesn’t  _ orders  _ him but  _ asks  _ him to do something. But now she just laughs and Merlin frowns.

“I don’t doubt it. But remember, boy, there are dozens of you waiting to take what’s yours. Don’t know why the king still keeps just you around.”

It hits a bit closer to home than he likes to admit. 

Once in a while one servant or the other talks about him like that and it usually doesn’t get to him. But today, of all days, it does.

He knows Arthur values him, he doesn’t necessarily need a public confirmation. Those few moments of vulnerability that they share are fine. They’re enough. He just wished sometimes that others would see their bond for what it truly is and not see him as the ever present bumbling idiot at the king’s side with the king getting annoyed with him easily.

“That’s enough, Bertha.” There’s a small warm hand on Merlin’s shoulder and Gwen with a displeased curl of her mouth next to him. “You’re talking to the king’s manservant and his friend. You know what the king might do for you disrespecting him and his judgment like this.”

Bertha snorts, “Like what he’d done to you, my queen?” Then she looks at Merlin and says, “I will have a meal ready for the king in twenty minutes. It better be in the king’s chambers before it gets cold.”

She turns around and goes to work, humming as is nothing out of ordinary had happened.

Merlin looks at the plate in his hands - four boiled potatoes, two slices of tomatoes, some lettuce, then at Gwen. “Thanks,” he says. Then, “Sorry, for the…”

Gwen takes his elbow and walks with him toward the door, shaking her head with a small smile. “Oh, it’s nothing. It happens a lot less than before.”

“But it still happens.” Merlin says frowning. “I wish it wouldn’t. You don’t deserve-”

“Merlin.” She says, voice cold as steel, and Merlin shuts up. The moments when she gets like this he thinks she could have made a great queen, but immediately perrishes the thought. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. You’ve done nothing wrong. I just kind of fell in love with the other man than the man I was supposed to marry. And who happens to be king. I’m glad to be alive and well.”

They pass some guards on the way and they nod their heads in greeting.

“You know Arthur would never.”

“I know. But it happened. And were the circumstances different…” Gwen shakes her head. “But you’ve done nothing wrong. And yet some still treat you like that. After all this time. If they knew what you were doing, that you are the person Arthur trusts the most, the person who’s always at his side, ready to-”

Merlin clears his throat. His cheeks feel warm, so do his ears. He likes when Gwen so passionate about how unjust the world is, but her words about what he and Arthur share are a bit much. She makes is sound like they’re something…  _ more  _ than they actually are.

“I’m taking this plate to that man. From last night.” He raises the plate to show her.

“Oh, I was wondering what you were doing in the kitchens if not to take Arthur’s breakfast. Is he sleeping still? Maybe you should check on him, while I take this one.”

Merlin looks around if there’s no one else on the corridor with them, before he takes Gwen’s wrist and pulls her to the crook between the corridors. He explains in a hushed voice that Gaius created a potion that’s supposed to reveal if the man is truly Merlin or an imposter.

Gwen nods, and takes the vial from Merlin’s hand. She pours a generous amount of it on the tomatoes and lettuce.

“It will be like a dressing,” she sounds pleased with herself and Merlin snorts.

“Because prisoners have special dressings on their salads.”

“Well, he doesn’t know it, does he?” She winks and takes the plate from him.

Merlin thanks her and goes with her to the dungeons, but stays out of sight when Gwen tells the guards that she brought a meal for the prisoner and makes his way to his cell.

“Thank you, Gwen.” The man says with an easy but tired smile, but Merlin doesn’t see Gwen’s reaction, because she’s facing the cell - the other him. “Do you know if Arthur wished to see me? Or Merlin, I suppose?”

“I don’t possess that kind of information.” Her answer is stiff. She must feel weird talking to Merlin that is not exactly the Merlin she knows. Merlin can relate. It feels weird,  _ wrong  _ looking at himself like this.

“Of course, sorry.” The man looks sad for a briefest of moments, before he takes a bite of a tomato and starts to chew. Mission accomplished. “Can you tell Merlin something? Tell him, ‘Remember that time, when Arthur thought he was going to die and he gave you something irreplaceable, the most valuable thing? You know what it is. Bring it with you, when you’re ready to see me’.”

And then he looks directly at Merlin hiding in the shadows. Merlin heart stops, he holds his breath. Then the eyes of the man turn back to Gwen and he says a quick thank you.

Gwen leaves. Merlin with her.

“You hear him.” She says, voice concerned. “Talk to Arthur and get ready. Whoever he is, he seems off.”

Merlin thanks her and dashes off to his own chambers. He forgets all about Bertha and the kitchen. All he can think about it that ‘irreplaceable, the most valuable thing’ Arthur gave him. There were only them that day, no one else. Merlin never told anyone. Arthur couldn’t have told anyone, it wouldn’t be…

“Merlin, what on earth are you-” Gaius starts, when Merlin bursts through the door.

“Taken care of. Just forgotten something,” he pants and takes those few lasts steps to his room. He sinks to his knees and finds the little wooden box hidden under the bed, along with his boots, some of his socks and blankets.

He opens the lock on the box with a spell - it’s the only way it can open, Merlin made sure of it. And-

And it’s there. Wrapped around red piece of cloth - one of Merlin neckerchief, an old thing with two holes in it.

In that box lays Arthur’s mother, Ygraine Pendragon’s, sigil. Arthur’s most valuable possession, irreplaceable.

The question is - how did this man knew? What else he knows?

  
  


***

 

Arthur is… his usual self.

He snaps at Merlin, when he’s late in bringing him breakfast. He eats in silence as Merlin arranges the clothes for the day on the bed.

They don’t speak much, which feels unusual, Merlin notices. He got used to their banter and it’s been a long time since they done this silent treatment/bullying thing.

Just when Merlin thinks they’d gone one step forward Arthur makes sure they take three steps back.

He even throws a boot at Merlin annoyed when he can’t find Arthur’s favourite red shirt. Merin’s too late in dodging the blow and the boot hits him square in the back, the hill bumps into his hip painfully and he hisses, dropping the shirt he was holding on the floor.

Arthur takes a step forward, but seems to change his in the last second. Merlin picks up the shirt, ignores the boot completely and makes his way to Arthur. He holds it up.

“Sire,” he says, bland as he can get.

He doesn’t have the energy and time to get annoyed at Arthur’s moods. He’s more concerned about the stranger they’re supposed to meet in fifteen minutes in the interrogation room close to the dungeons. It wouldn’t do well for people to see him and recognize him as Merlin’s future self or whatever.

Arthur’s fists clench at his sides and he gives Merlin his most not impressed stare. “What’s with you today, Merlin?”

“Nothing at all, sire. Now, please.” He holds the shirt higher and Arthur finally sighs and relents.

Merlin helps him into the shirt - the red one, worn thin, with a few holes Merlin sewn together here and there. He lets Arthur take care of the trousers and boots himself. He waits impatiently at the other side of the door and he just knows Arthur’s taking longer just to annoy him, but he doesn’t call him out on it, when he finally emerges.

“Ready to go, sire?”

“Stop with this madness, Merlin.” He snaps.

“Whatever are you talking about, sire? Isn’t that what you are - my lord?”

“Yes, but it isn’t-”

“Let’s go.”

“Merlin-”

“Let’s just go, my lord.”

And without looking back Merlin starts walking and his king follows at a quick pace. When they finally arrive at their destination, Leon greets them with a nod. He stays by the door, while Gwaine is closer to the prisoner.

The prisoner didn’t change his appearance, Merlin thought it might be, so he’s not surprised, but it still feels unusual looking at himself. He has somehow managed to make himself comfortable in a chair that’s supposed to be anything but that, wrists in shackles, tied together, lying in front of him at the table. 

He looks more alert maybe when he saw them, but his posture remains relaxed. Even when he looks between Arthur and Merlin with a deep frown. Arthur chooses to sit on the other side of the table, while Merlin stays back, maybe putting a bit more distance between them than he normally would.

“You two had a fight?” That’s the first thing he asks, and it surprises them.

“It’s not any of your business,” Arthur answers for both of them and Merlin’s eyes snap to the back of his head, annoyed, but chooses to stay silent.

The stranger sighs, rolling his eyes. “Gods, give me mercy,” he mutters. To Arthur he says, “You can’t fight, when there’s so much things to do. Just talk to each other.”

“You can’t address me like that, I am not your friend.”

“And for your information - we are talking. But as  _ Arthur  _ said - it’s not any of your business.”

Arthur thanks him with a nod. Merlin nods back.

“So I suppose you want to know, who I am.” The stranger starts. He turns to Leon, “Could you bring me my coat, Leon?”

“I am not your servant, impostor.”

“Do it, Leon.” Arthur says and Leon bows and leaves, though he doesn’t want to leave them alone with this potentially dangerous man.

“My name is Merlin. I was born in Ealdor, my mother’s name is Hunith. I came to Camelot to work for Gaius when I was seventeen. My mother send a letter, explaining our situation, which was… unusual,” as he says it, he looks at Merlin. They both know what that means. Merlin wonders why won’t he just say it. Why he keeps it a secret, still. If he wanted to hurt them, the knowledge of that would be the best of blows.

But he doesn’t.

“You’re lying!” Merlin jumps, not expecting Arthur to slam his palm against the desk with so much force it rattles.

The man doesn’t react but for the slightest raised eyebrow.

“Believe it or not, I am Merlin. This Merlin that you know. And you are Arthur Pendragon, the King of Camelot, and the biggest dollophead I know.” He smiles, when Merlin and Gwaine snort simultaneously. 

Arthur’s seething with anger.

“You’re not Merlin. He’s standing right here, while you’re… you’re a mare of some sort, an illusion, a magicked being who will tell _ right this instant  _ what it wants or I will have you thrown into the dungeons for however long it takes you to talk.”

“Arthur.” He sighs. Then does something unexpected. It looks like a twitch, and unconscious gesture, but with the face of desperation he makes Merlin is sure he wanted to take Arthur’s hand.

“How old are you?” He asks instead.

“Thirty seven.”

“So you’re what? Me in ten years?”

“Merlin-” Arthur turns around, probably to tell Merlin to shut up, but he can’t do that. Especially if the man is him. If he came here on purpose something must’ve happened in the future. If he came here now something has to be coming, something bad. 

_ Like in the dream… _

“Yes, I am. And I know it’s hard to believe, but I lived through the same life you live right now, up to this point in time. I know everything that happened, because it happened to me, too.”

“So tell me. Tell me something that only we would know.”

“Gwaine feet stink like a donkey’s ass in the summer.”

“Hey!” Comes an offended huff. “Why’s that even the first thing that comes to your mind?”

“Besides that common knowledge. Every knight knows this.” Merlin says, not convinced. That’s something anyone could learn. ANd if it’s all a plan to fool them, he probably would have a lot of time to take all the information he needed. Even something like this.

“Alright, let me think… You have a bite mark shaped scar on your left arsecheek.” He laughs and they all stare, because he looks exactly like Merlin. Maybe he has a beard and longer hair, and his voice is a bit scratchy and certainly deeper.

Merlin and Arthur look at Gwaine, who smirks back at them and shrugs. “That’s also common knowledge.”

“And how do you know that?” Arthur asks with gritted teeth and the other Merlin smiles serenely.

“I am the eyes and ears of this castle. Please don’t make a joke about my ears now, it’s getting quite old. I don’t know what else I can tell you. I know this is your favourite shirt, Arthur, and I used to make holes in your belt with a dagger without telling you.”

Arthur makes a noise resembling a growl, when Gwaine guffaws. “This is better than I imagined. What else d’you know?” He leans in like some maiden waiting for all the juice gossip.

The prisoner’s smile vanishes. Merlin sees something in his eyes, something like regret and he looks at his hands tied together. Then he meets Arthur’s gaze straight on, looking more vulnerable than Arthur had ever seen him. “I just want you to believe me, Arthur. Please.”

“Then prove it to me.”

“We just have to wait for Leon. I have - I brought with myself something that can make you believe me. Merlin, you got what I asked you to bring?”

Merlin nods and Arthur doesn’t understand. “And what’s that?”

And as if on command Leon comes back with a long brown coat that’s still a bit wet, rolled in as it was it didn’t properly dry. The prisoner takes it and maneuvers his hands to rip an inside part of it, from where he takes a roll of cloth. He gives it to Arthur with an expectant look in his eyes.

Arthur unfastens it quickly, nearly dropping the content on the desk. “It can’t be…” he says, then looks at Merlin, for confirmation or comfort, Merlin doesn’t know.

He reaches into his own pocket and lies the sigil beside the other on the desk in front of Arthur. “It’s the same,” he says simply. He expected it to happen on some level. He isn’t surprised anymore.

“My mother’s sigil…” The one Arthur gave him as the ultimate sign of trust and loyalty.

“You gave me this and I kept it save for more about fifteen years. It binds me to you and ties our futures together. Not because of the destiny we’re supposed to share, but because we chose to.”  _ Chose each other _ , Merlin feels like the man wants to say, but doesn’t.

Arthur doesn’t say anything for the longest while. So long in fact that Merlin begins to worry and places a palm on his shoulder and that brings him back to reality.

“You really are… Merlin?”

“Yes, Arthur.” There’s a relief so plain in his voice it’s painful.

“And where am I?”

Merlin from the future gulps and looks down. Merlin squeezes Arthur shoulder with a sudden sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

“That’s…” The man licks his lips. “That’s why I’m here. To prevent this from happening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to write it as an action adventure type of thing (like it was in the show) but it gets really angsty with me, bc everything always does. And I started to think about all their unresolved issues and I want to dwelve deep into their characters and make them make up (and make out) without it feeling rushed or out of character  
> Idk tell me if it work for you guys
> 
> I am in a dire need of a beta, bc I write this thing so late and I have no patience whatsoever to check it for grammar spelling (grammar? I don't know her) and if you are interested or know someone who might be, talk to me and I will love you forever
> 
> I also encourage you to visit [my site](https://szpurka.com/), because I'm just starting and it's important to me, and I have an actual physical novel in the making, so maybe if you're interested in that you can ask me about it or smth :D
> 
> You can also say hi to me, share some ideas about this thing or merthur in general or fandom in general on my:  
> [tumblr](https://w-szpurka.tumblr.com) (which is a lierally empty trashcan open to wreck, bc my other blog was too messy and had a fkn stupid url)  
> e-mail: szpurkawrites@gmail.com (bc I know not everyone has social media)
> 
> Please, give me some love and thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Future!Merlin: *cups Arthur's cheek*  
> Kinghts: Our merthur hearts sing with joy  
> Future!Merlin: *is going to kiss Arthur*  
> Merlin: hoe don't do it  
> Future!Merlin: *does it*  
> Merlin: *is hella jealous* oh mah gahd  
> Everyone forgets Arthur is the king here, and thb I think Arthur forgot for a sec there XD
> 
>  
> 
> Story singe-handedly inspired by this photo:  
>   
>  
> 
> Hey, guys, tell me what you thought. I really want to hear your thoughts about this idea, before I'll dwelve deep into that particular circle of hell and continue to pour my soul into this xD
> 
> You can also rant on this thing, share some merthur or fandom love, fic ideas or say hi to me on my:  
> [tumblr](https://w-szpurka.tumblr.com) (which is a lierally empty trashcan open to wreck, bc my other blog was too messy and had a fkn stupid url)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/szpurkawrites) (this one is empty, bc I don't know how to tweet, but I wanna learn)  
> e-mail: szpurkawrites@gmail.com (bc I know not everyone has social media)
> 
> Please, give me some love and thank you for reading!


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